


you got me lifted feeling so gifted

by j_gabrielle



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Angst, Broke Art Student!Erik, Consensual Relationship, Established Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Not Related, Rating Will Be Revised, Sugar Baby!Erik, Sugar Daddy!T'Challa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-27 19:19:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: Erik never meant to fall in love. And the moon never longed for the sun.[A series of drabbles set in the same universe]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the [Sugar Daddy!AU moodboards](https://hardheartshere.tumblr.com/tagged/sugar-daddy%21au) I did
> 
> I see Erik as being in his early twenties, while T'Challa is Chadwick's age, so around 40.

_Hey :)_

Erik rolls his eyes, but the smile on his lips is fond and complements the flutter of excitement in his chest. _Hey yourself handsome ;) When'd you get back?_ He texts back almost immediately. The din of the museum floor is background noise to him as he picks up his sketchpad to continue shading in the African masks he’d drawn earlier.

_Yesterday. Been in meetings all day. Free tonight? I missed you._

_Of course you did. I’m irresistible_

_Cocky :D_

The smile on his lips is full blown now. Linda on the bench next to his is raising her eyebrows, but he shakes his head. Checking the crowd for prying eyes, he types out his reply.

_Only for you daddy xx_

It takes him a moment, but T’Challa’s response comes with a soft buzz. _I’ll send a car around seven._

So Okoye would probably be the one picking him up. Erik cheers up at this. He knows that T'Challa trusts his right hand woman with his own life itself, and in turn Erik trusts her too. It helps that she never gives him 'The Look' that most people do when they know what he does to survive. And she's pretty cool. They played Jenga once while waiting for T'Challa. _Can’t wait to hold you in my arms tonight baby boy x_

Erik coughs into the palm of his hand. Reaching up to adjust his collar, he can't help the soft hum of happiness that escapes him. It has been two weeks since he saw T’Challa and he had most definitely _not_ been pining. T'Challa's one of the better ones, so it's only natural that Erik would be sweet on him. Folding his legs, he bends back over his sketch, pulling all his focus together to finish the assignment. There's still half a day before seven.

That man will be the death of him.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik had, for lack of better words, salvaged most of the furniture when he moved in to his apartment. The couch with the weird stain on the armrest, the lampshade he made out of leftover linen from two semesters ago, the creaking easel by the window and the television set he got for cheap from Mrs Moon two doors down when she was moving out to Colorado to be with her family. It all matches in a mismatched way. On other days, this is his haven.

But never after a night with T’Challa.

T’Challa had been in the car that arrived at seven. It had been a surprise, and Erik was proud that he only took a moment to be shocked before launching himself into his daddy’s arms.

“Hi Okoye.” He had greeted the woman breathlessly in between happy kisses.

“Hello Erik.” She’d replied, the lilt of her accent warm.

They never made it to whatever T’Challa had planned but Erik didn't mind. As soon as their hotel room door snicked shut, Erik had wrapped himself around T’Challa. “Miss me that much, kitten?” 

“Mmhm.” He'd hummed against the warmth of his neck. T’Challa had gently pried him away, pulling him past the sitting area of the suite and to the bed. He laid him out, nudging him to spread his legs.

“Let me take care of you?” T’Challa murmured as he undressed him. Erik nodded, arching his back.

“Yes, daddy."

His phone buzzed as he turns on the television for the morning news. Incoming message. _Can I see you again tonight?_ T’Challa asks.

_Haven’t gotten tired of me yet?_

_Never._ Erik feels the warm fuzziness rise in his chest. He promptly buries that in the deepest darkest corners of his mind.

_I’ll see you tonight kitten x_

The feeling of belonging in his own apartment, to his own skin will come back. It always does. As he curls up on the covers of his bed, turning his face to the pillow, Erik tries not to think about the why he aches for the feeling of strong arms around him and soft cotton sheets.


	3. Chapter 3

Thing is, he never meant to be a sugar baby.

He’d been dragged to the club on one of those Saturdays where restlessness burnt through his veins like fire. The music was good and then there was this guy he was dancing with. Older, kinda buff, unintimidated by Erik’s physique pushing back up against him. He smelt good and when he asked him if he’d want to spend the night at his place, Erik said yes. An exchange of phone numbers in the cold light of dawn, a kiss at the door and Ulysses had him every other Thursday.

Which was an arrangement Erik hadn’t minded. 

Ulysses was dangerous, yeah. Probably ran some sort of illegal cock fighting ring as a front for something shadier. Erik isn’t stupid to believe that he was Ulysses’ only one on the side. But he treated him well, fucked real good, got them both tested every six months, never forced him to do things he didn’t want to or to spend time together when he was busy, and paid him well for his time. 

It had been fine. Erik had lived with having Ulysses calling him baby, lived with the way he could tell how bad he was going to be limping in the morning by the way the man smiled when he walked into the room. It was fine. Until T’Challa.

T’Challa happened on a Sunday. Erik had been on a 87 hour art bender in the studio and had been chased out by his supervisor and told to get some sleep before he keeled over. And he almost walked into oncoming traffic had it not been Erik who snatched him back from the claws of death. Which had him in T’Challa's arms like one of those rom com heroines, him looking into T’Challa's beautiful eyes and wondering out loud if this was the moment they kissed. Before appropriately passing out.

Erik had woken up in a boujee as fuck hotel room and had a moment of appropriate freaking out. Ulysses had never taken him to any place with stars above the DoubleTree at Times Square South. He’d checked if someone stabbed him with needles or if his wallet was stolen before slipping on his shoes. Okoye had been waiting outside his door, and at the sight of her, Erik most definitely did not squeak and backpedal into the room. 

T’Challa had been sent for, breakfast subsequently, and probably somewhere between finishing the eggs and his oatmeal, T’Challa had asked if he’d like to spend time with him. The “You gotta pay like everybody else bro” came out before Erik could stop it. But judging by the amused look levelled his way, no one was actually offended.

And that’s how he landed two sugar daddies.

Erik had heard back from some of his friends in the sugar bowl about having more than one daddy. Keep them separate. When it is their time, it’s their time and you are their for that time and theirs alone. It had been a simple rule to keep. For most parts, and Erik does thank whatever deity still listening in to him, Ulysses and T’Challa had never called for him on the same day. 

Erik had most definitely not planned this. His thing with Ulysses had been good, but the thing with T’Challa is, amazing. He could drown in the daydream of them, lived in a world where they could just be. Where he was just Erik and T’Challa was just T’Challa. Ulysses has begun to notice. And that, is a dangerous thing.


	4. Chapter 4

T’Challa sends him a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates for Valentine’s. Erik tries not to read too much into it, but he does text him a quick, _Thank you_ as he plants the flowers in his mother’s chipped water jug and shoves the chocolates in the fridge for later. 

_Try the chilli flavoured chocolates. They are my favourite._

Erik tries not to let it get to him. Tries to remember every other person in his life who has told him to be careful like a litany that is etched into his subconscious. But.

It’s little things like these, small tiny thoughtful things that make it impossible for Erik’s heart to stay unaffected. And he doesn't know how long his walls can last. He goes through the day on autopilot, mind being drawn back to the red of the roses sitting on his kitchen window sill. He keeps seeing T’Challa in his mind’s eye going to the florist to find the prettiest bouquet they had and to the chocolatier to individually pick out a box of assorted flavoured chocolates all for him.

But honestly, the reality is that Okoye was the one who picked out the flowers and that the chocolates were probably pre-packed. T'Challa doesn't have that leisurely luxury of wasting that much time on someone he pays for companionship. Erik doesn’t mind it the least, though. It is a nice gesture.

His cell phone vibrates when he is on the steps to the subway platform. He fumbles to unlock the screen. Fingers clumsy with excitement. The sense of disappointment in his chest at the sight of Ulysses’ number instead of T’Challa’s is still not something he is prepared to look too deeply at.

_I’ve sent you a gift. Be a good boy and wear it for me tomorrow._

Erik frowns and mentally tallies up the dates. If it was Valentine’s today, then tomorrow would be… Ah. Thursday.

He replies with a thumbs up emoji and pockets the thing. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he draws his bag to his chest pushing past the onslaught of people. He has a train to catch.

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave me some moodboard requests [Here](http://hardheartshere.tumblr.com/ask) or you can leave me some fic requests [Here](http://randomingoftherandomness.tumblr.com/ask)


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